“Look,” he said, “I’m not trying to cut myself in for nothing. I’m not asking you for a piece of the action for old times’ sake or anything like that. That’s one thing and business is another-though it never hurts to do a deal with someone you know you can trust. Let me tell you some of the facts of life. If you’ve got some really fantastic design, sure, you can go sell it for a bundle to lots of people in the business-if you’re careful, damn careful. But that’s it. Your golden opportunity’s flown then. If you really want to clean up, you start your own outfit. Look at Apple. If it really catches on you can always sell out then, for a lot more than you’d get from just peddling the idea. You may be a whiz at design, but I know the marketplace. And I know people-all over the country-people who’d trust me enough to bankroll us to see it off the ground and out on the street. Shit! I’m not going to stay with Grand D all my life. Let me in and I’ll get us the financing. You run the shop and I’ll run the business. That’s the only way to go with something big.”
“Oh, my,” I sighed. “Man, it actually sounds nice. But you’re following a bum scent. I don’t have anything to sell.”
“Come on!” he said. “You know you can level with me. Even if you absolutely refuse to go that way, I’m not going to talk about it. I don’t screw my buddies. I just think you’re making a mistake if you don’t develop it yourself.”
“Luke, I meant what I said.”
He was silent for a little while. Then I felt his gaze upon me again.
When I glanced his way I saw that he was smiling.
“What,” I asked him, “is the next question?”
“What is Ghostwheel?” he said.
“What?”
“Top secret, hush-hush, Merle Corey project. Ghostwheel,” he answered. “Computer design incorporating shit nobody’s ever seen before. Liquid semiconductors, cryogenic tanks, plasma-“
I started laughing.
“My God!” I said. “It’s a joke, that’s what it is. Just a crazy hobby thing. It was a design game-a machine that could never be built on Earth. Well, maybe most of it could. But it wouldn’t function. It’s like an Escher drawing-looks great on paper, but it can’t be done in real life.”
Then after a moment’s reflection, I asked, “How is it you even know about it? I’ve never mentioned it to anyone.”
He cleared his throat as he took another turn. The moon was raked by treetops. A few beads of moisture appeared upon the windshield.
“Well, you weren’t all that secret about it,” he answered. “There were designs and graphs and notes all over your work table and drawing hard any number of times I was at your place. I could hardly help but notice. Most of them were even labeled ‘Ghostwheel.’ And nothing anything like it ever showed up at Grand D, so I simply assumed it was your pet project and your ticket to security. You never impressed me as the impractical dreamer type. Are you sure you’re giving this to me straight?”
“If we were to sit down and build as much as could be constructed of that thing right here,” I replied honestly, “it would just sit there and look weird and wouldn’t do a damned thing.”
He shook his head.
“That sounds perverse,” he said. “It’s not like you, Merle. Why the hell would you waste your time designing a machine that doesn’t function?”
“It was an exercise in design theory” I began.
“Excuse me, but that sounds like bullshit,” he said. “You mean to say there’s no place in the universe that damn machine of yours would kick over?”
“I didn’t say that. I was trying to explain that I designed it to operate under bizarre hypothetical conditions.”
“Oh. In other words, if I find a place like that on another world we can clean up?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“You’re weird, Merle. You know that?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Another dream shot to shit. Oh, well . . . Say, is there anything unusual about it that could be adapted to the here and now?”